


Sleepwalk Into My Arms

by Layneee



Series: Sexsomniacs [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Based on part of a House episode, Frank Devereaux as Dr. House, M/M, Sexsomnia, Sleepwalking, non-con-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8259550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Layneee/pseuds/Layneee
Summary: Dean Winchester feels great. That is until the fatigue, muscle aches, and rash. Plus, his hot neighbor is acting strange.  Based on the 1x17 episode of House.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is what I do when I am procrastinating homework. Oops.
> 
> Oh well! Enjoy!

Dean Winchester prided himself on being a good neighbor. He had lived near some shitty ones, so he knew what  _not_ to do. He put down carpets to reduce noise. He didn't cook with a lot of garlic, even though his spaghetti sauce could use it sometimes. He let his neighbors know when he was having a party. He even tried to keep noise sex to a minimum. Though if he was honest with himself, that one was pretty easy. Considering he would have to be having sex in the first place. 

While Dean would hate to call it a dry spell, that is exactly what it was. 

It started nearly ten months ago when he broke up with his ex-boyfriend, Gunner. He had thought that Gunner was going to be it for him. He was older, experienced, sexy. He was also, apparently, married. With kids. Finding that out had not been a shining moment for Dean. 

(He had seen her picture in Gunner's phone. He'd always assumed she was his sister or something.)

So after finding out that he was simultaneously the mistress  _and_ the jilted lover, Dean decided to take a little time off. 

Two weeks later, Castiel moved in and Dean's life got worst. 

* * *

Castiel Novak was  _weird_. But he was also the hottest thing Dean had ever seen.

He was tall and strong. (Dean could tell because he'd shamelessly watched him move into the unit below Dean's when he saw how small the other man's t-shirt was.) His hair was dark and wild, and it perfectly matched his eyes. Dean saw them one morning when they both went out to check the mail at the same time. (And  _no._ Dean did not sit by the door and wait until he heard Castiel leave before doing the same. No  _siree._ ) That's not even taking into account his voice. 

It was a voice that could make Dean hard even if he was reading a vacuum cleaner's instruction manual. It was deep like a piece of glass in a garbage disposal. But like a  _sexy_  piece of glass in a garbage disposal. 

It was all driving Dean a little crazy.

(Obviously.)

It didn't help that the guy was just the kind of weird and awkward that Dean found secretly adorable, like a sexy little puppy in shoes. But also not at all because Dean  _really_ wanted to have sex with him.

* * *

So the last nine and a half months have not been easy on Dean. It's been filled with pining (his) and lustful look (also from him). Luckily, Castiel seemed none the wiser, which allowed Dean to form a psudo-friendship with the guy, which only made the pining more painful, and the lustful looks more secretive. 

But Dean would take what he could get. Even if that was only semi-regular chances to watch Dr. Sexy if their schedules allowed it. 

So when Castiel became suddenly evasive and kept canceling their semi-regular hang outs, Dean got a little concerned. 

* * *

Sam noticed it first. 

They were meeting up for a beer one night, and it took less than a minute for Sam to clap him on the shoulder in congratulations. "So? Who's the lucky guy? Or girl?'

Dean sputtered into his beer, and turned towards his brother. "What?" He asked, wiping the excess beer from his chin. 

"Dude, you don't have to hide it from me," Sam said, all placating and understanding and shit. "I think this is good for you."

Dean still didn't get it. "No seriously, what are you talking about?"

Both brothers continued to stare at one another until Sam finally gestured to Dean's neck with his bottle. "The hickey, dude."

"What the...?" Dean cursed as he spun on his stool to get a look at himself in the scuffed mirror behind the bar. "Dude. What is that?"

"Dean, I don't need to explain the birds and the bees to you," Sam laughed. "I'm pretty sure  _you're_ the one who gave me that talk."

"No, Sam, I'm serious," Dean snapped as he continued to prod at the skin, trying to see the mark, until he finally admitted defeat. "I haven't had sex since Gunner. What the fuck is this?"

Sam calmed down, and mumbled something about it probably being nothing. 

Dean wan't so easily convinced. 

* * *

The next morning Dean drove to he free clinic downtown. He'd done some panicked WebMD-ing the night before and figured he could use some professional help. 

His doctor, some old guy named Dr. Devereaux, was prodding at the mark as Dean rambled. "Petechial bruising? I don’t know if I’m pronouncing that right."

Dr. Devereaux scoffed and mumbled something that sounded like, "Gosh, the internet is such a wonderful tool."

"It could be leukemia!" Dean said as the doctor pressed down a bit harder. 

Dr. Devereaux stepped back and sat himself back in his rolling stool. "Definitely possible. The more likely diagnosis is hickey."

"Well, it can’t be a hickey! I’m not having sex. I’ve barely even thought about sex since my relationship ended," Dean rationalized, even if it was kinda a lie. After all, fantasies didn't count. Before he could protect himself Dr. Devereaux reached up and yanked out a clump of Dean's hair. "Son of a bitch! What was that for?"

"I say you’re having sex, you say you’re not. Either you’re lying, or I’m wrong. Or there’s some middle ground," Dr. Devereaux said blandly as he put the stands of hair in a plastic bag and sealed it. 

Middle ground? "You mean like oral?" Dean wondered aloud. 

"I mean you’re having sex without knowing it, moron. I’m testing you for booze, drugs and GHB." Dean didn't think doctors were allowed to call their patients morons, but the old coot had left the room before he could complain. 

* * *

Dean ended up back at the clinic a day later. He didn't want to be, but he was also curious. 

Especially after he found the rash in the shower earlier that morning. 

He was seated on the raised patient table when the door slammed open and Dr. Devereaux waltzed in, looking smug. "You have restored my faith in the human race. You’re lying."

"No, I'm not lying." Dean barely contained his frustration, because it's not nice to snap at your doctors. No matter how rude they are first. 

"I just got your results back. No GHB, no nothing. It means you’re having sex, and you’re lying about it." Dr. Devereaux's face didn't falter, and Dean's already elevated blood pressure jumped further up. 

"No, and I have a new symptom. I have a rash on my butt." Dean smiled triumphantly. "Do you want to see it?" He added, just because he felt like being a little shit. But then Dr. Devereaux sighed and nodded, and Dean had to pull down his pants, showing the doctor the rash. "What is it?"

Dr. Devereaux sounded unimpressed as he explained, "It's a carpet burn."

Dean balked. "No! It can’t be! Man, I love sex. I miss it. I haven’t had any in almost a year."

Dr. Devereaux sat, and leveled a look at Dean that made him feel like a toddler, and a dumb one at that. "Well, you managed to keep this appointment, so you have no short-term memory problem. Multiple personalities? Do you find yourself losing chunks of time? Do you wake up and you don’t remember falling asleep?"

Dean thought about it and shrugged. "No, I just wake up really exhausted."

The doctor sighed. "We have a sleep lab in the basement. Come back tonight and we'll see if we can't figure this out."

* * *

For the third afternoon, Dean found himself at the clinic. Sleeping in the lab had been weird, but he kept telling himself it would be worth it. When Dr. Devereaux burst into the room, Dean saw that he was dragging behind him a small computer on wheels. The doctor ignored him as he booted the thing up. He turned the screen to face Dean. It was full of weird, squiggly lines. He pointed at the screen. "These were your brain waves at 2:45 AM. Now, here it comes, there’s an abrupt jump from slow-wave sleep. This indicates partial sleep arousal. The most common type is somnambulism – sleepwalking."

"That would explain why I’m so tired when I wake up," Dean thought aloud. 

"Yes, and also the hickey. And the carpet burn," Frank retorted with barely contained glee. 

It took Dean a moment to put the pieces together. "I had sex in my sleep?"

Dr. Devereaux ignored his outburst and explained, "Sexsomnia is a documented disorder."

Dean's brain skipped like it was on a turntable. "But... Who did I have sex with?" It's not like Dean was calling anyone, considering there were no weird calls on his phone. And it's not like he would try and have sex with the Carrigan's across the hall. The only person he would have sex with was... "Oh, fuck no."

* * *

Dean broke probably every traffic law between the clinic and his apartment building. He threw the impala into park, barely managing to rip the keys out of the ignition before he was racing towards the door of the apartment below his. The door had a cute little bee knocker hanging on it, but it was ignored by Dean as he pounded on the cheap oak with his fist. 

The door opened suddenly and Dean was face with Castiel's confused face. Upon seeing Dean, the other man's normally pale complexion blushed and Dean just  _knew_. 

"Have we had sex?" He managed to contain his panic, though just barely if the concern on Castiel's face was any indication. 

Castiel looked like he wanted to reach forward, but refrained. "Uh... yes. On a couple of occasions. You... don't remember?'

"No!" Dean huffed. He turned, and missed the way Castiel's eyes widened in panic. "Apparently I sleepwalk!"

"Dean, I am so sorry! If I had known..." Castiel raced to say, but Dean continued on, unhearing.

"I've wanted you so bad I just  _sleepwalked_ right into your bed! I mean I got to have sex with you and I don't even remember it. How unfair is that?" Dean was pacing, practically wearing a hole in the concrete. 

"Dean! Stop," Castiel finally barked, grabbing Dean by his upper arms and stopping him in his tracks. "I didn't know. I'm so sorry. I wouldn't have done it had I known you weren't fully in control."

"I know that, man. No hard feelings, or whatever. But," Dean paused, not knowing if he should ask his question before thinking, _fuck it_. "Was it good at least?"

Castiel stared, and stared, before cracking a smile. "Dean, it was better than good. You were so beautiful."

"Spread out on the carpet, apparently," Dean mumbled, and Castiel laughed. 

"Yes, you were quite insistent. You always left right after, I wasn't sure what to think." A little unsureness snuck into Castiel's voice, and Dean wanted nothing more than to make it disappear. 

"Believe me, Cas, had I known what was happening, I never would have left." Dean caught Castiel's eye and same him a bashful smile. 

Castiel returned it with a small upturn of his lips. "Both nights I asked if you wanted to grab dinner sometime. You never gave me an answer."

"Ask me again?" Dean asked shyly. 

Castiel slid his hands down from Dean's upper arms until he was holding both of his hands. "Dean. Would you like to have dinner with me?"

Dean gave the other man's hands a squeeze. "Yeah, Cas. I'd love that." Both men grinned until Dean couldn't help but add. "But don't expect me to put out. I'm a classy dude."

Castiel laughed, and invited Dean into his apartment. Just for coffee, though. Dean planned to make him work for the good stuff this time around.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think. :D
> 
> I decided to add the sexy sleepwalking in a separate, dirtier story. So that's coming!


End file.
